The Pillar Remembered: The Story of
the Cannery Workers

Albacore comming off the conveyor belt headed to the cannery.
(Photo Courtesy of the San Diego Unified Port District)

By Robert Quintana

The tuna canneries were ahead of their time. Norma Martinez,
a cannery `veteran' of 25 years, remembers exercising every morning
at the beginning of each workday at one of the plants. This was
long before it became en vogue for corporate America to install
athletic gear on rooftops.

For others the Statue of Liberty might have been hidden amidst
the heavy, pungent odor of fish. John and Marty Cota recall a
place where persons of Mexican, Italian, Japanese and Anglo descent
all worked together like a championship baseball team. Diversity
was a reality not a goal. And when someone was down, hurt, or
was struck with some kind of tragedy, the others would pitch in
any way they could. The `familia' was there.

When it came down to celebrating birthdays, weddings and other
special occasionsfuh-get about ita multicultural
feast ensued. "I remember when it came down to having parties,
people from each different ethnic group would bring their particular
type of food and everyone would share," said Marty Cota.
"It was incredible."

John and Marty Cota. John worked 25 years at the cannery while
Marty spent 10 years in the tuna industry.

The Cota's were happy when they worked there, so much so that
their old boss, Don Arthur, was a kind of hero figure for them.
"Don worked his way up to supervisor from the bottom as a
fish dumper and he sure knew what he was doing," said John,
with respect and admiration. "When the fish came in, Don
could tell you exactly when we were going to be finished."
Marty had kind words to say too. "He (Don Arthur) had a unique
philosophy in that he wanted to hire other members of your family
and he looked at that as a real positive thing."

Of course there was still work to do. Hundreds of tons of tuna
needed to be dumped onto the conveyor belts, cooked, cleaned,
checked, packed, and distributed. Marty worked most of her 10
years as a checker and John, a 25 year veteran, worked in the
delivery end. There was a time though, when the workday could
begin at night according to Mr. Cota. "It didn't matter when
that boat came in. It could be nine in the morning or at midnight,
when the fish came in we had to start working, and we didn't stop
until we were finished. It was a different life but that's the
way it was."

The pay wasn't too bad either according to everyone.

Take 1955 as an example. In November of that year, the Cannery
and Fishermen's Union struck a deal with their employers at the
Westgate cannery. 600 employees fought for and received a 5 cent
wage increase. It was also agreed upon that men could make a maximum
of $1.85 an hour and women could earn a maximum of $1.65 an hour.
That was good money back then.

Perusing through the San Diego Union archives, rent
for a high end two bedroom home in 1955 cost about $80 a month.
A women who made the maximum of $1.65 an hour could feasibly afford
this. She would earn approximately $264 dollars a month. Whereas
in 1998, average rent for a two bedroom home would be about $1000.
A comparable salary today would be $830 dollars a week! For someone
without a college education and for many who have one, this is
unheard of.

In 1984 laid-off cannery workers gathered together to duscuss
their future.

Bea Avina remembers how good the pay was. "The conditions
weren't exactly great, but nobody seemed to mind because the pay
was so good," she said. "In fact, there wasn't any job
that we could get that even came close to the pay at the canneries."

For Avina, working in the canneries was like waking up in the
morning. It was a way of life, and as far as she was concerned
it would continue on for generations to come. "Nobody thought
that they would ever work anywhere else," she said. "We
all thought that we would retire there and our children would
retire in the canneries as well," Bea said, her face saddening
with the thought. After all, Bea spent nearly 50 years in the
canneriesshe began working there in 1949, when she was 19
years old, and stopped working for the canneries in the early
80's when global competition, environmental pressures and other
factors contributed to the demise of local canneries.

There were many people who were out of work and suffered a
great deal. Bea was one of the fortunate ones, finding another
job right away. She began working for United Way, and was actually
involved in the relief effort for the unemployed cannery workers.
No doubt, everyone in the community was hit hard, even those that
found other employment. The life-style that they became accustomed
to changed dramatically. Simply put, no job could match the salary
at the canneries.

The Story of the Tuna Industry

The tuna industry began way back in 1903 by accident. Sardines
were the fish of choice back then, but one day they just disappeared.
At a sardine packing plant in San Pedro, an employee decided to
pack the empty cans with albacore, which at that time was considered
a "nuisance" fish with no known commercial value.

The albacore tuna was then given a public testing that year
at the Pomona Fair and surprisingly, the public was pleased with
the taste. The albacore was erratic in it's appearance off the
Pacific Coast, however, and this disturbed the canners. Needing
a stable supply, they asked M.O. Medina to take a chance and fish
far south of San Diego. They would be paid $100 dollars a ton
for whatever yellowfin or skipjack tuna that was caught. Medina
and his brothers loaded their boat to the brim with tuna and that
was to be the birth of San Diego's high seas tuna fleet.

The most significant events that damaged the industry in San
Diego occurred during the post WWII years and in the 70's.

Interestingly enough, during the war, the tuna boats were used
to carry food to soldiers in the Western Pacific. "They were
ideal for carrying food because they were like one big refrigerator,"
said Harold Cary, who worked in the tuna industry for 57 years
and is now writing a book.

During the war, almost all of the tuna fleet was used to aid
in the war effort. According to Cary, the state department also
made a deal to buy more canned tuna from Mexico. They thought
that this would encourage the building of more canneries, but
they didn't take into account that Mexico had it's own population
to feed and the plan consequently failed.

After WWII, competition from the Japanese was fierce. The Japanese
began to can the tuna in brine or water and for some reason or
another, they were able to substantially cut the trade duties
that they had been paying. This put intense pressure on San Diego
canneries, which began to close down. Mr. Cary went to Washington
D.C. to oppose the new measure but to no avail. "No matter
what we did we were not able to stop that from happening. We simply
lacked the political clout."

The other major occurrence and the most memorable was the campaign
to save the purpoises. The environmentalists were claiming that
between 100 and 200 thousand porpoises were being killed every
year. This was a hotly contested number but the fishermen did
everything they could to stop the killing of porpoises according
to Cary. "New nets were developed that allowed porpoises
to escape more easily without being harmed," said Cary. "Even
when they could not escape, fishermen would dive in the water
and physically help them out of the nets," he said. There
are even some accounts of divers being attacked and killed by
sharks.

Nevertheless, the campaign to save the porpoises proved to
be a harmful one for the tuna industry in San Diego. Cary's anger
returns when he tells the story of the environmentalists who he
feels dealt the last blow to the tuna industry here in the late
70's. He claims foul play on their part.

According to Cary, one member of the environmental group (Earth
Group) falsely claimed that he was a cook so that he could go
on a fishing expedition off the coast of Peru. Although the boat
they went on was a fine ship and up to standards, the captain
who was chosen to lead the trip was not. The cook, or kook, according
to Cary, brought a video camera and filmed nightmarish scenes
of blood and gore that came about because of the incompetent skipper.
That film was then used as an example of every tuna expedition.

They used this film as an advertisement throughout the country
in an effort to gain more support in the form of money. The fishermen
were put under severe pressure by this time and responded by lowering
the porpoise mortality rate to nearly zero. But the environmentalist
did not let. According to Cary the money they were making drove
them to keep up the campaign. In fact, Cary was able to get a
hold of their financial records and discovered that these executives
were drawing enormous salaries. By this time, it was too late.
The industry was doomed.

There were other factors that led to the demise. Increased
competition from companies like Mitsubishi added to the dilemma.
According to David Burney, president of the U.S. Tuna Foundation
in 1994, it was this competition with world trade that led to
the collapse. Tuna producers had to move operations closer to
where the fish are in the Western Pacific to compete with cheap
labor costs. Labor rates in Thailand, for example are 32 cents
to 36 cents an hour. Bumble Bee Seafoods, a salmon and tuna canner
which boasts over $450 million in sales yearly, operated the last
cannery on Harbor drive until the mid-80's. From 1980 to 1985,
the San Diego tuna industry collapsed.

In 1980 San Diego was the second largest fishery port in the
U.S. with landings, mostly tuna, valued at over $110,600,000.
By 1985 that number plummeted to $6,800,000, a 94% decline in
less than five years. But the economic impact of that tuna is
much greater. Economists estimate that the fish landed here have
a multiplier effect of 4 to 7 times the landed value. Consequently,
as it rippled through the economy, the economic impact of the
landed tuna in 1980 was 400 to 700 million dollars, providing
employment for canners, wholesalers, truckers, suppliers, advertisers
and a whole pyramid of people.

Why celebrate. Why honor? Why now?

It started with an idea from Tom Martinez, when he started
asking, "where did all the cannery workers go?" Martinez
spent the last forty years in labor unions involved in advancing
the rights of workers, so naturally he was concerned. But everwhere
he went he was met with blank stares as if no knew about the cannery
workers. Slowly though, stories and names began to seep out. He
began to hear about the hundreds of women who used to dress in
white `nurse' gowns and come out in droves from the plant on Harbor
Drive and he became more curious. His first big break came when
he met with Bea Avina, who was involved in the Cannery Workers
and Fishermans Union for many years. She had a list of about thirteen
names.

Tom immediately began making phone calls and those people he
contacted were able to give him the numbers of more cannery workers
of old. At the same time, Tom started to enlist partners in hopes
of putting together an affair to pay tribute to the workers of
this town. Frank Sarmiento, President of the Labor Council for
Latin American Advancement, was one of the first to agree to sponsor
the event on behalf of his organization and he was more than willing
to pledge support. Sarmiento, who studies labor history, talked
about the important historical aspects of the canneries. "This
is important for a variety or reasons. For women, this predated
the Rosie the Riveter movement during WWII. Women were able to
get jobs that paid well and they were accepted by the canneries,"
he said. "The opportunities were unprecedented."

On a personal note, both of Sarmiento's grandparents worked
in the canneries and his mother, Maria Arias also worked there
in the 40's and 50's. "My mother was in the position where
she had to find a job and support her family. The cannery allowed
her to do that," he said. In addition, their was something
dynamic about working in the canneries in that those involved
developed a strong work ethic. Sarmiento's work ethic today continues
to be connected to that spirit harnessed at the canneries.

For Port Commissioner Frank Urtasun, there was no question
about whether or not they (the Port Commission) would support
the cannery celebration. When his parents, Diego and Isabel Urta-sun
came to the United States, it was the canneries that fed and housed
them for over 20 years. "It really hits home for me because
I know how hard these people worked," said Urtasun. "So
when they asked if I would support them I said hell yes,
this has been a long time coming!"

The ball, officially, was rolling and Radio Latina and the
Chicano Federation climbed on board to lend a helping hand as
well. If Tom had it his way, this celebration on September 7 won't
be the last. "These people were vital to the economic development
of the city and I hope that they will be remembered for years
to come."

This could be the start of something specialcelebrating
the contribution of the workers in the development of San Diego.
This is a part of our heritage both as San Diegans and as Chicanos.
Current history books seem to discount the plight of the laborers
but this story is too important to forget. The tuna industry was
an overwhelming force in the economy since 1903 and one of the
pillars of that industry was the cannery workers. As more cannery
workers pass away, their hard work needs to be remembered.